


Battlefield

by killerkitty15



Series: (I Think I Made You Up Inside My Head) [2]
Category: South Park
Genre: Dark Magic, High School, Jealousy, M/M, Manipulation, Partying, Rough Sex, Secret Relationship, Sexual Content, Slash, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-26
Updated: 2016-06-15
Packaged: 2018-05-23 06:33:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6108057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killerkitty15/pseuds/killerkitty15
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Long ago, Kyle, Stan, Cartmen and Kenny got Tweek Tweak and Craig Tucker to duke it out. Now, as high school students, they try and do it again.<br/>This time, the fight is a little different.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“I still say that Craig is way worse than Tweek.”

“Shut up, fatass.”

“Fuck you, you faggy, Jewish princess!” Cartman snarled, throwing the remote control at Kyle’s head. 

Stan deftly caught it before it could hit the red head, glaring at the “big boned” teen. “Stop it, Cartman,” he snapped, throwing it at Cartman in retaliation, “There’s a fucking hot iron by Kyle’s head.”

The remote bounced off of Cartman’s bicep and he scowled. “Not my fault those two wanted to do something so faggy.”

“Go suck a dick,” Kenny said in a sing-song voice. The four friends were gathered in Stan’s house, since Stan’s parents were in New York, visiting Shelly -who was now in college -and leaving Stan alone in an empty house. They were in Stan’s bedroom, the TV turned up as loud as they could get it without drowning out each other’s voices. Right now  _ 1000 Ways to Die  _ was on, bags of Cheesy Poofs, Twizzlers, M&Ms, popcorn, Twinkies, Sour Straws, Hershey’s Drops and bottles of Coke, Mountain Dew and orange Fanta were strewn around the room. 

They were in their Junior year of high school, and had all changed drastically from their time as Fourth graders, growing more attractive, among other things. 

Cartman, who was laying on his stomach on the floor, Cheesy Poof bag in hand and wearing red pajama bottoms with Swastikas all over it and a red t-shirt that had a KFC logo on it, had grown taller and was the tallest among them at six foot two; he had evened out after puberty, when he started getting more involved with the football team, with broad shoulders, big arms and legs, his stomach spilled over the waistband of his jeans some, but he was far from obese -as he had been when he was a child -and was regarded as very handsome with brown hair that he styled in a way that made Cartman look like he should be on  _ Leave it to Beaver _ , hazel eyes just dark enough to be warm, being dominantly brown most of the time with only flecks of color, and dimples when he smiled sincerely, although those were rarely seen. His voice had lowered to something deep and rumbling, but he maintained that same pattern of speech he had since they were kids; and, he was one of the few teenage boys that could grow facial hair and grow it well.

Stan was lying on his bed, as was his right since it  _ was  _ his room, and trying to balance an M&M on his nose, wearing grey sweatpants and a navy blue wife beater, had also grown taller. He was the second tallest in their group at six feet, and had bulked up due to his multiple sports affiliations, developing abs and defined muscles that ranged from biceps, triceps, pectorals and calves to thigh and back muscles; he was considered a “hot jock” who could sweet talk his way out of anything -his voice had deepened and became almost like liquid velvet -in part because of his looks, his black hair slightly long and shaggy, dark blue eyes that made women swoon -especially paired with his dark hair, a rare combination -and his right ear was pierced, once in the lobe and a helix piercing, a token from another goth phase he had in Freshman and the beginning of Sophomore year. 

Sitting on a chair was Kyle, getting his hair straightened by Kenny, who had borrowed Bebe’s flat iron. 

Kyle was the shortest at five foot seven, with a lean muscled physique he achieved and maintained because of basketball, which he still played even though he had given up his dream of being in the NBA. His voice hadn’t gotten as deep as Cartman’s or Stan’s but he still had a rather pleasant voice and was considered adorable by all the girls, even if he was rather dorky, with a pretty face, a smattering of freckles along the bridge of his nose, his cheekbones and around his eyes, bright green eyes framed by thick lashes and thick, curly hair that had darkened to a darker shade of red instead of the bright orange ridiculousness that he had when he was a kid. He was very well liked, intelligent and was the nicer of the four, besides Kenny, and he still had a magnificent ass that was the cause of lip biting and worship among both sexes. He sat in Stan’s desk chair, wearing silver and navy blue basketball shorts and an oversized, white t-shirt, sitting absolutely stock still so he, nor accident prone Kenny, would get burned with the flat iron.

Kenny was taller than Kyle, even though Kyle was the one that played basketball, at five foot nine and a half and was scrawnier, but his muscles -while lean -were more defined. His voice wasn’t as deep as Cartman’s or Stan’s but it wasn’t as high as Kyle’s, leaving him with a nice, deep, yet honey sweet voice that translated beautifully when he was flirting or singing. He had long blonde hair that curled at the nape of his neck and constantly got in his eyes, with random curls in random places and never brushed neatly or thoroughly, he had a septum piercing and gauges in both ears the size of his thumb nail, both of which he had done himself, and blue eyes the color of ice. He was stunning with model looks that were both a blessing and a curse; a blessing because Kenny got sex really easily -and Kenny loved sex -and a curse because it meant unwanted attention -ie: sexual harassment -which was annoying and led to many fist fights. Kenny was good at flirting and really good at sex, no matter who it was with; he had discovered long ago that he was what was referred to as a “pansexual” and he guessed that was an ok label to give himself, a lot better than all the other labels he had received. He wore a pair of ugly, grey boxers with a pattern of red, smoochie lips and a black hoodie that was three sizes too big, obviously belonging to Cartman before he had lost all the fat-weight and replaced it with muscle mass. Willingly, he had volunteered to straighten Kyle’s hair, in part because he was the only dude that knew how to do it -thanks to Bebe having taught him -but mostly because he just wanted an excuse to run his fingers through Kyle’s pullable curls, since they were going to a party later that night. 

They had all changed very drastically, although parts of them would always remain the spirited, weirdos they had been as kids.

Cartman narrowed his eyes, gritting his teeth. “I bet you would like that, slut.”

The blonde tensed, turning to face Cartman slightly as he pointed the pink flat iron at the “big boned” teen, “Shut your big mouth, pig, or  _ I will burn _ the inside of your asshole with this.”

“Will you both stop it?” Kyle huffed, exasperated, “We need to get ready for this party, or are we not going?”

“No, we’re going,” Kenny said, running his fingers through what remained of Kyle’s curls, tugging on them so he could tilt the Jew’s head to the side and kiss the side of his neck in a playful way, “M’sorry for upsetting you, pumpkin~.”

He giggled, “Just finish my hair, Kenny.”

“Oh, yes, sir!” the blonde said, mimicking Big Gay Al’s voice, which made Stan laugh, despite his uncomfortableness as Kenny’s actions, and Cartman roll his eyes. 

“Anyway,  _ as I was saying _ , I  _ still  _ think Craig is, like, way worse than Tweek. Craig just doesn’t give a shit, he’s a total badass.”

“His police record is longer than both yours and mine combined…” Kenny consented, beginning to work on Kyle’s hair again. Almost every teen in South Park had been arrested for one thing or another at one point. The only people that hadn’t been arrested were Butters, because there was no fucking way he’d ever do something to warrant an arrest -plus, he could easily cry his way out of it -and Kyle because he was too smart to get caught and he was deathly afraid of his mother. Kenny and Cartman on the other hand, had been arrested many, many times; Cartman for various acts of destruction of property and Kenny for petty theft and solicitation. 

“So is Tweek’s,” Stan said, standing up and walking over to his closet, scratching his ass on the walk over, “and he’s crazy.”

“Tweek is the sweetest thing alive,” the redhead scolded in a voice that reminded everyone, disturbingly, of their mothers, “but...if you push the right buttons...things can get intense with him…”

“See? That’s exactly what I just said,” Stan murmured, rummaging through his closet for clean clothes to wear, “I have no idea what I should wear to this...what is this even for again…?”

“It’s for Rebecca’s birthday,” Kyle said, since he was the one who invited all of them to begin with, “and you should wear your red button down shirt, your skinny jeans and black converse.”

“Ok, man, thanks.”

“I swear to God, you’re like his fucking  _ wife _ ...” Cartman muttered, which earned him a middle finger from Kyle. “Hey, guys, do you know what we should do?”

“Hmm?” Kenny hummed, not too interested when his fingers were caressing Kyle’s pretty hair.

“What?” Kyle and Stan asked at the same time, only vaguely interested.

“We should make Tweek and Craig fight again,” the brunette suggested, “it’ll be fun.”

“Cartman-.”

“Don’t be a pain in the ass, Kyle!” he snapped, “I  _ swear _ , you’ve become such a fucking  _ gaywad  _ recently. Are you fucking Tweek? Or is Craig fucking you? Which one is it because you sure are acting like one of them is your fucking fag boyfriend!”

“ _ I’m not involved in this _ ,” the redhead said, clenching his jaw, body tense as he purposefully ignored Cartman’s comments, “It was wrong when we were kids and it’s wrong now.”

Cartman rolled his eyes, “Whatever. You in Kenny?”

“Hell no,” the blonde scoffed, “I value my life. Craig and Tweek are...uhm...well, they’re really good friends, like Kyle and Stan, and if Craig found out that he hurt Tweek for nothing...well….it wouldn’t be good.”

“Cartman, I’m in,” Stan said, yanking down his sweatpants and throwing them in his dirty laundry hamper, “I’ll convince Tweek as long as you got Craig.”

“Fuck yeah!” 

“This is gonna end badly…” Kyle said, a tone of warning in his voice, but it went largely ignored.


	2. Chapter 2

Tweek leaned against the wall in Rebecca Cotswolds’ house, her parents having gone to Indiana or something for a convention for homeschooling parents with teenagers. The room was dark, the only things lighting the room were the swirling, colored lights and the strobe lighting, music blared from strategically placed speakers and there was a table filled with snacks and boxes of pizza, the countertops in the kitchen filled with the alcohol. Tweek fingered his red cup nervously, having lost Craig in the crowd and not having the balls to go out and mingle. Everyone was either dancing, grinding, making out, having sex or talking in their cliques, anyway, so there wasn’t really a point. 

“Hey, Tweek.”

The anxious blonde looked up, blinking a few times before recognition dawned on his face. “K-Kyle?” he questioned, biting his lip, “W-What - _ oh my God _ -you look so d-different  _ -gah!  _ I-I mean, good different n-not bad different - _ oh my God _ , I’m sorry, I mean, you look really n-n-nice, Kyle!” 

Kyle was dressed in a green, plaid shirt, a black wife beater, black jeans and black combat boots, his Star of David around his neck and his hair straightened so that it brushed against his shoulders in silken looking strands. He blushed, scratching his freckled cheek at the compliment. “Thanks, Tweek,” he said, smiling and taking a sip from his own red cup, “Why are you here all by yourself? Didn’t you come with Craig, Clyde and Token?”

“Y-Yeah…” Tweek said, blushing and looking away, Kyle was just so pretty and popular that Tweek was still nervous and embarrassed to talk to him. “But you know h-how Token and Clyde are with g-girls...and I don’t know where C-Craig went…”

“Are you at least having fun?” the redhead asked, sliding closer to stand beside Tweek and lean on the wall beside him. 

“Uh-.”

“Tweekster~” a voice purred in his ear, causing Tweek to shriek as two arms wound around his abdomen, one hand sliding in the gaps created by the improperly buttoned shirt. 

“What the hell, Kenny!” Kyle scolded, frowning at the blonde who was resting his chin on Tweek’s shoulder and nuzzling into his crazy, out of control, hair, “Don’t do that! You almost made Tweek piss himself, you scared him so much!”

“N-No, I wasn’t gonna-!”

“Sorry, sunshine~” Kenny hummed, kissing Tweek’s temple and the back of his head, “I didn’t mean to scare you, I just wanted to say hi. And to drag your gorgeous ass out on the dance floor.”

“I-I’m not a good -I mean -I don’t dance.”

“Then we can find a couch,” Kenny said, his breath brushing against the antsy teen’s neck, “I can make you feel good?”

“N-No, thanks!” he stammered, yanking his body away from Kenny’s, moving closer to Kyle, “Uh...why don’t you guys go? D-Dance, I mean. I don’t w-want to keep you guys from having a good time…”

Kyle and Kenny shared a look that Tweek couldn’t read, a sort of telepathy passing between them. “Are you sure Tweek? We don’t mind-.”

“ _ Gah! _ N-No, please, I’m -it’s -everything’s fine!” he squeaked, giving Kenny and Kyle a shaky smile, “Pl-Please go have f-fun.”

The pair looked unsure, but gave Tweek one final hug before disappearing into the crowd together. Once again, Tweek looked around at the crowd of teens, looking for a familiar blue hat and yellow puff ball covering long, shaggy, black hair. 

“Tweek?”

Again, the blonde’s body tensed and he jerked, spinning to look at the third intruder of the night. A boy with brown eyes and thick, wavy hair leaned on the wall, beside Tweek, wearing red converse, boot cut jeans, a grey button down shirt and a beige, Mr. Roger’s sweater. Tweek blinked, eyes widening in recognition. “ _ A-Ah _ , Ma-Mark? I didn’t think y-you’d be here...this doesn’t seem like -gah! -your type of scene.”

He smiled warmly, sliding closer to the agitated blonde. “I just came to make sure Becca doesn’t do anything...uh, regretful. What are you doing here? This doesn’t seem like something that would make you comfortable. At all.”

Well, that’s phrasing it...very politically correct. “Craig, Clyde and Token dragged me along…”

Mark chuckled, about to say something else when Stan suddenly came up to them, interrupting them. “Mark, dude,” Stan said, extending his hand to the brunette, “nice party.”

“Thanks, but, really all I did was order pizza,” he chuckled, doing one of those bro hugs, “this is all Becca, man.”

“Very nice...Hey, would you mind giving Tweek and me a minute? I need to talk to him about somethin’.”

“Oh, uh, sure,” he blinked, looking over his shoulder at the aforementioned blonde, “Find me if you wanna some more company, ok?”

“O-Ok, th-thanks, Mark,” Tweek squeaked, watching the very nice and warm brunette walk into the crowd, monitoring the teenagers and making sure his sister wasn’t acting like too much of a slut. He looked at Stan, who towered above him, just like Craig; but, unlike Craig, he looked tall and menacing, like Godzilla, not like the warm teddy bear that was Tweek’s best friend. “H-Hi, Stan,” he stuttered, nerves making his gut roll in anxiety and it felt like he might vomit, “w-what - _ Jesus!  _ -w-what do you need to t-talk to me a-about?”

“Well, I was getting pizza” -Stan jerked his thumb over his shoulder, in the direction of the table, covered with a red table cloth, and filled with pizza boxes and bowls filled with chips and pretzels and candy - “and I overheard Craig talking to some guys about you. And it wasn’t good, little dude.”

His eyebrows scrunched up together and he cocked his head, like a confused puppy. “Wha...What do you mean?”

Stan bit his lip, looking hesitant, until he finally said, “I don’t wanna hurt your feelings…”

His heart was thumping, beating his ribs and causing blood to roar in his ears. His throat and mouth and lips were dry so he cleared his throat, licked his lips and made a pathetic croaking noise. Craig was his best friend, they were together all the time and they had been since third grade. It was like Tweek had two homes and two parents, they got dressed in the same room, slept in one bed, stayed over at the other’s house for days, had sleepovers that entailed insightful conversations only possible in the middle of the night, junk food and caffeinated drinks and TV shows from their childhood, and they spent summer days together, relaxing and having fun doing ordinary things with each other and with their other friends, Clyde and Token, having developed their own little group, one as tight knit as the group Cartman, Stan, Kyle and Kenny had together. Tweek did everything with his three, dear, friends and they knew each other’s secrets. All of them.

Well...almost all of them. 

With shaking hands, the smaller teen latched onto Stan’s chest, fisting the nice, red fabric of the jock’s shirt loosely in his small fists. “Please...Stan…” Tweek whimpered, and he knew he must sound absolutely pitiful, “I...have to know...wouldn’t you want to know if Kyle said something about you behind your back?”

Something dark flashed in his eyes before they became guarded and closed off. Tweek recognized that look because Craig got that too many times, so much that it made Tweek very uncomfortable and nervous and scared and desperate and, even though it was in Stan’s eyes, Tweek still got the same feelings. He wondered if it was because Stan had black hair and blue eyes like Craig. “Tweekers...I….h-he said that...you were like a chihuahua, like a really clingy rescue dog that wouldn’t leave him the fuck alone,” Stan licked his lips, looking away from Tweek and using his secret weapon, a secret Cartman didn’t know Stan was accidentally privy to, “He was saying that you’re not interesting in...uh... _ you know. _ ” Stan had accidentally witnessed Tweek on his knees in front of Craig with a look of bliss on the dark haired teen’s face, one giant hand buried in Tweek’s crazy hair. All of a sudden, the closeness of the two made sense but Stan never let Tweek nor Craig know that he was aware of their... _ more than friends  _ relationship, or anyone for that matter. If it had been anyone other than Tweek….Stan probably would have blabbed but, Kyle was right, Tweek was sweet and he needed someone more stable than himself. That was Craig because, while Craig was far from stable, he was more so than Tweek. 

Stan watched as heartache filled Tweek’s eyes, joined by tears. “...Thank you, Stan....” he whispers, “Can I...I would like to be alone now…” Stan nodded, feeling the guilt gnawing at his gut as he moves to find Kyle. 

Tweek inhales shakily, folding his hands together then pressing them against his racing heart. Craig...he wouldn’t say that, would he? Everything thing had been going well between them, even though keeping their relationship a secret was putting so much pressure on him. Maybe….maybe Craig had finally told Token or Clyde and he was admitting to them that he...that he… The thought makes Tweek want to cry as he thinks about how he might not be pleasing Craig, that he’s making Craig unhappy.  _ Well, screw him! _ his mind suddenly supplied as his violent twitching worsened,  _ It’s not our fault that the sex is dull! _ No...No, his therapist said he shouldn’t use “our” when he’s arguing with himself. Despite that, it was true. 

Puberty and time had also slapped Craig with a “sexy god of sexiness” stick. He was the same height as Cartman with thickly corded muscles -like Cartman and Stan -although he wasn’t into sports, he just worked out a lot; he had grown his black hair out long so that it stuck out from beneath the edges and ear flaps of his blue hat, he had piercings: snake bites, one on his bottom lip, towards the left, a tongue piercing, a bridge piercing, three bars on his right eyebrow, an anti-eyebrow piercing on the left side of his face and he had plenty of ear piercings. Gauges in his lobes, upper lobe piercings, orbital piercings, tragus piercings, daith piercings, rook piercings, forward helix piercings and industrial piercings. He even had a dick piercing. Craig also had tattoos, even though he couldn’t legally get them until he was twenty one, a biomechanical tattoo on his left shoulder and upper arm and, on his right shoulder blade, were the words “All I do, I can still feel you/Numb all through/I can still feel you, hear your call/Underneath it all/Kill my brain yet you still remain, crucified/After all I’ve died, after all I’ve tried/You are still inside”. He said that the quote was from a Nine Inch Nails song, that it reminded him of Tweek and that’s why he got it. Tweek liked to caress those tattoos and the various scars on his body when their sweat was cooling on their naked skin. 

Despite the fact that Craig was as big as a bear and looked fucking terrifying with his tattoos and height and piercings, he was really sweet. Ok, so not really, Tweek was the only one he was sweet to. But that was just the thing...Tweek didn’t want that. He loved how possessive and protective and gentle Craig treated him, even in school where they were supposed to be “just friends”. That gentleness just happened to transfer over to their sex life and, thus, Tweek’s frustration. “Making love” was good and all, but Tweek would appreciate a nice, hard fuck every now and again. 

Tweek rubbed a hand down his face and exhaled shakily, biting his lip as he tried to think. He knew Stan must’ve misheard because there was no way Craig would say those things about him...he had to believe he wouldn’t...but Tweek was sure that Stan had heard the sex thing correctly.  _ Maybe Stan was far away and had moved closer…  _ No, even if Craig said those things, improving their sex life was a sure way to keep Craig around -to keep Craig his.

An idea popped up in his head, truly, an ingenious one that would kill two birds with one stone. He could use his intimate knowledge of the extent of Craig’s possessiveness and jealousy in order to get what he wanted, Craig. Tweek raised his head, looking around the room for anyone that would do. Craig was talking to Clyde and Bebe, doing his own thing. Looking around some more, Tweek noticed two blondes that stuck out like sore thumbs, Pip and Butters, who were off giggling and gossiping and talking in the corner of the room, surely not indulging in any alcoholic beverages; it was quickly learned that Butters became a violent drunk, throwing chairs, flipping tables, getting into fist fights, getting into screaming matches and, generally, being a dick,  and Pip became a whore, which obviously angered his anti-christ lover and, thus, a ban on alcohol was instilled, at least, in regards to those two blondes. Oh, speaking of the anti-christ… Tweek looked around, seeing Damien with a red solo cup in his black nailed hand, leaning against the wall in the shadows and staring with narrowed eyes at Pip.

_ Perfect… _


	3. Chapter 3

Tweek made his way to the anti-christ, weaving in between grinding, writhing bodies until he was in front of the taller, black haired male that was also Craig’s sorta-kinda friend. “Hi, Damien.”

The teen looked down, blinking in surprise, “Oh, hey, Tweek.” Damien was the same height as Cartman and Craig but, instead of Cartman’s bulky figure, he was more like Craig -leanly muscled, he was covered head to toe in tattoos, having plenty on his neck, arms, torso, back and legs, shaggy black hair with the left side shaved and the long half ending at his chin, getting shorter the further back his hair went, black eyes that were alight with flames when he was angry and had even more visible piercings than Craig; at the moment he wore a black button down shirt, grey skinny jeans that were slightly baggy, chains hanging from his belt and yellow Doc Martins with a face on the toe of the boot, a face with Xs for eyes and a frown. “What’s up?”

“D-Did you and Pip get in-in a fight?” the blonde asked, fingering his sleeves.

“...Yeah…” Damien said, raising an eyebrow. Tweek was one of Pip’s closest friends and, the antichrist figured, probably already heard about their little “domestic”, which had occurred because Damien wanted Pip to stop praying at the dinner table and Pip wanted to meet Damien’s father. “What about it?”

“I-I’m trying to make Craig jealous,” he said honestly, “U-Uh an-and I think you want Pip to pay attention to you, t-too…”

The antichrist’s mouth dropped open. “You...you really are a devious little thing, aren’t you?” the dark haired teen exclaimed with a disbelieving laugh, “I can’t believe I didn’t see it before!” Damien smirked devilishly and leaned closer to the caffeine addicted mortal. “What do you have in mind?”

Tweek looked around, putting a finger to his lips. “F-First...we need to get Craig and Pip alone…” he said, “Can you do that?”

Damien’s smirk only widened. “Easy.” He closed his eyes and whispered into his hands. “ _ Demons of Hell obey me, your prince. Let the son of man possess their sense, release them from the chains of morality that bind them and let them rejoice in their delinquency. Obey! _ ” Three small, black orbs formed in Damien’s palms and, with a flick of his fingers, he sent them through the air only to dissolve and fall into the drinks of Butters, Clyde and Bebe. The two of them waited, Clyde and Bebe the first ones to sample their bewitched drinks. Immediately, Damien’s otherworldly powers had Bebe and Clyde acting beyond reason; Bebe began to giggle excitedly, stripping herself of her t-shirt only to grab a fistful of Bradley Biggle’s t-shirt and began to grind against him, much to his shy delight, and Clyde sauntered up to Token, straddled the strong, dreadlocked athlete’s lap and began to grind and kiss him.

Tweek raised an eyebrow at this and looked towards Damien.

The antichrist shrugged. “All I did was get them to obey their secret desires. Other than that, I had no hand in...that.” 

“I-If you say so…” Tweek said, pulling at a chunk of his hair, “W-What about Butters?”

“Give it a minute.”

They watched and, eventually, Butters did take a sip of his water. The “magic” or whatever it was acted quickly, changing even Butter’s body posture. He began to steal cups of alcohol from other people, guzzling them down with surprising sufficiency; when he consumed his fill, he stood up on the coffee table and screamed, loud enough to call everyone’s attention. “Everyone! I have an announcement!” he exclaimed, stealing someone else’s cup of alcohol, “For months now, Pip and Tweek have been supporting me with this difficult decision; and, I realized they’re right, it’s time the truth is exposed! You all call me a fag and guess what: it’s true! I love sucking dick! Except Cartmen’s; even if we were the last men on Earth, I wouldn’t let his dick anywhere near me!” 

The teens erupted into cheers, laughter and wolf whistles as Butters hopped down and kissed Pip square on the mouth. It was a closed lipped kissed, but it was sloppy and Damien tensed, automatically going over to the pair and pulling Butters away by his shirt collar. “Stay away from my boyfriend, Butters,” Damien growled, wrapping an arm around Pip’s waist and the Brit, thoroughly adored and impressed -clearly having a soft spot for knights in shining armor types -leaned heavily into the side of the anti-christ. 

Butters giggled, spinning away from Pip and Damien and towards Tweek. “See, Tweek? I did it! I know I could!” Butters spun the nervous blonde around in a circle, pulling him to the dance floor as he shouted, “Come on! Let’s dance!”

“B-Butters! You know I don’t-!” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Damien smirk, sending two black orbs out from his fingers again. The first one hit the stereo, turning the music into something dark and seductive, sex music; the second one collided into Tweek’s spine, sending liquid fire through his veins. He gasped but, soon, the feeling dissipated and was replaced by the mellowing of his nerves and the desire to let loose, dance -dance until his feet grew numb and he was tired and lax with joy and exhaustion. Tweek followed Butters, getting lost in the feeling of sweaty, grinding bodies around him, Butters hands were on his waist, tugging on his shirt, pulling him closer, grinding to the beat of the music.

He felt  _ alive _ .

Tweek grabbed Butters’ hips, leaning into his torso and forgetting, if only a little bit, that he was supposed to be trying to get Craig’s attention but this should work, too, right? And he was having fun while he did it… He leaned his head back against Butters’ shoulder, his friend’s soft body like a pillow or a mattress surrounding his body. Hair brushed his cheek and eyelids, but he didn’t bother opening his eyes to see if it was his hair or Butters’.

A sudden, rough grab on his wrist was the only warning Tweek received as his eyelids popped open and he was torn out of Butters’ grasp. The front of his body was pressed into one that was taller and stronger than his own but familiar all the same. 

“ _ Back the fuck off, Butters _ .”


End file.
